A Mother's Education

Wednesday was asleep when she saw the thing that told her to follow him. She sighed. The sign of a finger told her that her mother was calling her to the dungeon.

Sulkily, she went upstairs, what could her mother have imagined, having subjected her to many initiatory trials since childhood? She entered her apartments where her mother was sitting in an armchair.

• Ah, my daughter, I would appreciate a little more diligence when I call on you.
• Mother, I'm an adult now; I don't have to obey every word.
• What arrogance and arrogance ! We'll correct that. You've forgotten which family you belong to. Undress.

Before Wednesday understood, she began to undress while her amused mother watched with interest as her daughter undressed.

• You've grown into a beautiful woman. I hope you remember my interest in domination and bondage, my daughter. You're old enough to appreciate my imagination for that. Put your arms behind your back.

Wednesday obeyed. Still unable to understand why, Morticia encased her daughter's arms in leather sheaths and put a dog collar and leash on her.

• Please, mother, what's going on?
• Shh, my daughter. You know a girl is conditioned to obey her mother in everything. You just forgot. I'm going to train you again. With that, she put a ball gag on her.

Morticia slung the leash over her shoulder and dragged her daughter deep into the manor's basement, where the worst terrors of her childhood had forever shaped her. They passed the servants, who were looking at Wednesday with appreciative, mocking expressions.

The cold basement tiles slipped beneath Wednesday's bare, but stockinged feet as Morticia led her further, the leash taut like a cursed thread. The air smelled of old leather and hot wax, mingled with the acrid scent of rusty metal. The walls, streaked with dancing shadows, were lined with ominously shaped instruments: adjustable restraints, iron cages, and silken ropes suspended like sleeping snakes.